


Hakugei

by Kantayra



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-08
Updated: 2009-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inui, in a bout of masochism, decides he wants to uncover the mystery of how Fuji created Hakugei. Fuji is as smiling and unhelpful as ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hakugei

“I would be very interested,” Inui informed Fuji one day, “in gathering data on how you come up with your counters.” Even after all these years, Inui was persistently hopeful that he’d finally get _something_ on Fuji.

“I bet you would,” Fuji smiled unhelpfully.

“The Hakugei, for instance,” Inui pressed. “The physics involved are impressively complex. Did you work them out in science class?”

“Hmm,” Fuji teased, “that _must_ be it.”

Inui frowned down forlornly at his notebook once more as Fuji walked away.

***

The truth of the matter was that Hakugei was Fuji’s favorite creation yet, simply because it had just been so much _fun_ to do. It had all started innocently – or not so innocently – three years ago. Fuji had only had two counters at the time and, while they were effective enough for him to win his matches, he’d had it in the back of his mind that he wanted something more.

In the _front_ of his mind, he _knew_ he wanted something more. Particularly, he wanted to do more than _watch_ all the very handsome boys on his tennis team. Fuji beamed as he watched them practice, sighing to himself happily at the sound of manly grunts as the ball was hit back and forth.

The rest of the first-years crowded around behind him, trying to train their beginner eyes to learn the same insight that Fuji’s prodigy eyes had. Fuji didn’t correct them on their misinterpretation of his rapt attention on the game.

“He’s, uh, putting a backspin on the ball?” Oishi tried hopefully.

“No, he’s not.” Kikumaru could at least see that much. “Maybe it’s his footwork?”

“I _think_ it’s his timing…” Kawamura ventured hesitantly.

Fuji _shivered_ as their upperclassman grunted hard, and his short tennis shorts pulled tight across his taut ass. “Check out his butt,” Fuji finally confessed.

Oishi squinted harder. “I don’t see it. Does that show how he’s balancing on the balls of his feet or something?”

“I think it’s so you can predict where he’s going to move by following the center of his weight,” Kikumaru decided.

“That must be it,” Kawamura agreed.

Fuji didn’t say a word.

***

“Perhaps the name is the key to how you developed your counters,” Inui came up behind Fuji while he was watching Echizen and Kaidoh’s practice match. Inui just never knew when to give up. It made messing with his head that much more fun.

“Hmm,” Fuji considered. “Possibly…”

“‘White whale’…” Inui considered. “What could that signify?”

“Reckless, obsessive pursuit of a hopeless goal?” Fuji suggested.

Inui frowned. “Perhaps you get your inspiration from observing animals in nature,” he plodded right along with his own particular pursuit. “Animals’ motions are instinctive, not constrained by conscious thought. As a result, their movements would seem unexpected to players using their full rational capabilities…”

“If you have so much free time to think about this, why don’t we play?” Fuji suggested with a smile.

Inui gulped.

***

The best part about watching his teammates play, Fuji had discovered, wasn’t just that they stuck out their hot asses all the time. Rather, the universe itself seemed to be conspiring with Fuji to give him the best view possible.

“There’s a bit of a wind today,” Oishi commented.

“Mmm,” Fuji agreed happily.

“It’s going to weaken the force of all the smashes,” Kikumaru said, finally starting to get the hang of watching matches.

As Fuji watched, the wind did, indeed, weaken the force of the third-year’s smash. It also did a lovely job of lifting up the bottom of his shirt, exposing this rock-hard abdomen to Fuji’s appreciative gaze. The wind, Fuji had discovered, was quite a deliberate pervert. It didn’t seem possible for it to always be blowing so low to the ground and then up at _just_ the right time to lift boys’ shirts. It did so very, very often, though, to Fuji’s delight. On particularly windy days, sometimes he could even catch sight of a nipple.

“There’s just no way for him to win in weather like this,” Kawamura concluded.

“Hmm,” Fuji considered. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that if the wind was powerful enough to blow up guys’ shirts, then it could probably do some interesting things to the ball, as well…

His eyes widened at his sudden idea.

***

“Chance of returning to back left corner: 90%,” Inui tried in vain.

Fuji hit a drop shot to the front right. “It’s this fun?” he said cheerfully.

Inui dove helplessly for the ball and fell flat on his face. He let out a frustrated groan.

“Come on,” Fuji encouraged him. “It’s your serve now!”

Inui whimpered and forced himself back up to his feet.

***

Fuji knew what he had to do to develop his new technique, and he would need lots of help with it.

“ _What_ are you doing?” Tezuka demanded stoically, eyes wide.

“F-F-F-Fuji!” Kawamura blushed bright red.

“Oi, oi, that tickles!” Kikumaru laughed and batted at him.

“Uh…” Oishi froze stock-still as a statue, jaw dropped.

Of course, what Fuji needed their help _for_ was that he had to figure out how to move his arm exactly like that perverted wind. Namely, he had to perfect the motion of reaching up under their shirts and tweaking their nipples. Tennis, Fuji reflected not for the first time, was just _so much fun_.

“For some reason,” Inui – another first-year who was always snooping around trying to spy on everyone – approached Fuji, pushing his glasses back up his nose, “everyone else seems to be avoiding you lately…” He tapped his pen against the notebook he used to take stalker notes on everybody.

“I can’t imagine why,” Fuji smiled. He’d been about to reach up Inui’s shirt and feel up his nipples, too, but it occurred to Fuji that it was more fun if Inui had absolutely no clue what he’d being doing to everyone.

Inui frowned down at his notebook and drew a question mark on the page marked “Fuji Shusuke.”

Fuji went off to find some upperclassmen to molest.

***

Inui fell, panting, to his knees.

“My game.” The ball bounced back into Fuji’s own hand, a perfect Hakugei. He watched appreciatively as the same wind he’d just used blew Inui’s shirt up nicely. Inui had been working out lately, Fuji was pleased to observe. “6-0.”

Inui sighed wearily and reached over for his notebook. The “Fuji Shusuke” page was now almost entirely covered in question marks. Inui added another one for good measure.

Fuji decided he was feeling magnanimous that day. “If you really want to know,” he informed Inui with an angelic smile, “I came up with Hakugei by ogling the guys on our team. I noticed how the wind blew up their shirts, and I just copied that. That’s why I chose the name ‘Hakugei.’ Get it? Haku-gay?”

Inui glared up at him. “There’s no need to _mock_ me,” he snorted at that ridiculous attempt at an explanation.

Fuji’s smile widened more when he realized that Inui didn’t believe him. “But it’s just so much fun!” he teased.

And Inui just groaned and resigned himself to the fact that he would probably _never_ get a straight answer out of Fuji. The creation of Hakugei was doomed to remain an eternal mystery, just the way Fuji wanted it.


End file.
